When the World Falls Apart
by emsaduem
Summary: It wasn't a spark. It wasn't a flame. It was fierce, quick, and violent. But it was so, perfect. Because, when the world falls apart, you need something solid to cling onto.


Everyone was dead. Nothing felt real, and her arms were numb. The thin stick of wood was still being gripped like a lifeline, stained with dirt, grime, and blood. Some was hers, some not. It was sticky and adhesive, gluing her fingers to her wand. Bushy hair lay in unwashed tendrils around her face, covered with the same soot and dust that coated her entire skin. The half-moon crescents that were her nails had become black, as dark as the night. The bustle around her was white noise, the howling of agony and sobs of mourning. Ron had long since left her side in favor of attending to his family, which has been left in shatters. She was unable to look at the fallen twin, his lips still bearing the ghost of a smile. Harry had many to mourn, and walked around, having a lonely moment of silence for all of his peers who gave their life up for him. His head hung low, and despite everyone's encouraging comments, he could barely smile.

At one point she was sitting. She was sure of it. It was one of the benches set aside for the living, barren and abandoned in the corner. It was a break, between assisting teachers and healing students, lying through her teeth to dying classmates, promising them all would be alright, only to turn away with a stony expression. No tears could form; she was too tired for such an expression of emotion. Memories began to bleed into one another, until she was standing-no, walking- through the former halls of her former home. Rubble had been swept to the side to the best of everyone's ability. Nonetheless, stone cracked underneath her shoes, some portions of the ceiling threatening to give away at any moment. Silence, one could only associate with death permeated everything. She passed the courtyard during her walk. Some bodies still littered the ground, which had mere hours before been the battlefield of magical creatures and passionate students. She didn't dare look at their faces; many were still in their first year, to young, yet caught it the crossfire.

The astronomy tower looked as if the top had been violently lobbed off a giant axe. Unlike the hallway, all the rubble lay untouched, piled on top of one another. The odd levitating sculpture was twisted into odd strands of iron that lay on the dusty ground. With the toe of her boot, she gently nudged it to the side, making a path to the side of demolished tower. Climbing as fast as her aching body allowed her, she made her way, balancing precariously on a piece of stone that had fallen from the tower wall.

A sheer cliff was below her, dropping off into wilderness. Some trees from around the edges had been crushed by falling debris, while others had the telltale sign of burning. Nonetheless, the wind, carrying the scents of the Lake, against her knotted hair was extremely pleasant. If she were just to stare at one point in the sky, towards the muggle world, all the smoke from fires and horror of battle seemed nonexistent. Almost.

The sound of stone cracking and breaking, snapped her out of her reverie. Wan in hand, she whipped around, nearly tumbled to her death as she lost her footing. Gasping and fumbling of footing, her heart leapt into her throat. As she fell backwards, she was gently lifted up, as if a breeze was pushing her upwards. She was lowered lightly onto solid stone.

"Granger," the voice that usually sounded sharp and harsh was quiet and weak said.

Hermione looked at him, the silvery hair covered in ash and grime. His face, usually pale as a noble's and smug was weary and caked with filth. He made no move to fix it, nor any move towards her.

"Thanks for saving me," Hermione whispered. Raising her voice felt inappropriate, as if she were in a cemetery.

Draco glared at the ground: "There has been enough death today."

Nodding in agreement, Hermione turned back to her former perch, examining the portion of the rock that had broken off, and tucked her wand away.

All of his charisma and cockiness was gone. Draco Malfoy, the boy who always had something rude to say, or some unnecessary comment at the tip of his tongue, looked utterly exhausted and speechless. His silver eyes were trained at the cracked ground, unable to formulate a coherent sentence.

He had lost everything. After this, there was no knowing what would happen to him. Hermione didn't even know what she would do, but at least she wouldn't be subjected to trials and prison sentences. She always knew that despite the fact he made her life a living hell, he had good in him. It was obvious his father was tugging his leash and whispering in his ear what to do. Without him, Draco was a lost dog. The Ministry was sure to shove him and half of Slytherin whose parents were part of the Death Eaters on trial, undoubtedly ruining their entire future.

"It's finally over," Draco sighed under his breath.

Hermione tentatively stepped towards him. For some reason her hand itched to lace her fingers through his. Before she could even act on it, Draco swirled around, grabbed her, and pulled her in for an embrace.

She gasped as his arms pulled her towards his chest, towards his heart. Despite everything, despite the pain around them, and despite the obscurity, they hugged, holding onto one another as if the other was a lifeline. His heart, beating under her ear, was like a tether to a world slipping between her fingertips. He was alive. He was there. He was _constant_.

Without warning, her grip tightened, and she mashed herself closer to him, resting her cheek on his solid chest, confirmed he wouldn't slip away, like everything else. If she were to lose him….

He returned the gesture, his strong arms around her. Draco's nose buried into her hair, enhaling it as it were a drug he could not live without. If this were different, if the world had not been crumbling, and silent chaos was ruling, she would have blushed, conscience of her dirtiness. Powerful hands traced circles on her back, while Hermione's hand travelled to his shoulder blades, gently massaging. The exercise visibly made him less tense.

Glancing up, she was met with dark eyes, clouded with turmoil and longing. Her face was mere centimeters from his. Warm breath tickled her face, and eyelids instinctively fluttered close, hiding her liquid brown eyes.

Draco lowered his face to her, their lips molding perfectly together. The silent, passionate kiss quickly became sloppy. It was eager, demanding, and longing. Like dementors, they drew energy from each other, eating up the happiness they no longer had. The franticness was palpable as their hands explored each other, until they came to rest on each other shoulders. They broke apart breathing heavily.

This time, it was Draco who whispered, "Thank you."

**Well...um. This is new. A one-shot! Yay! (But em, you should be updating your other stor-) SHUT UP!**

**I hope you enjoy this fluffy, angsty, Dramione. I'm an avid shipper, as I hope you are. If you like these types of stories, check out the author Bush Fire Transition. It is a combined account of Lady Cocoa, emeraldvk and I. Review, please!**


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